


Aziraphale's Prophecy

by dylan158



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, all sorts of hijinks, your honor they are gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-20 03:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19369015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dylan158/pseuds/dylan158
Summary: When Aziraphale stumbles upon the final existing and unfulfilled prophecy written by Agnes Nutter, he is overjoyed. Until he realises fulfilling the prophecy means facing his deepest fear - confronting his feelings for his best friend.Warning: includes dangerous levels of gay pining; continue with caution.





	1. Speak Of The Devil

Chapter 1: Speak Of The Devil

\- 

It had been about a week since the world had almost ended, so most people had forgotten at this point. Anathema wasn’t completely sure of what had happened at the time, but she was positive she knew even less now. Even Agnes’ prophecies, which she had spent decades studying, had begun to fade from her memory. She breathed deeply, taking in the scent of freshly brewed tea, before pouring it into three teacups.

“Do you take sugar?”

“No, none for me thank you.” replied her guest, well mannered as usual.

She proceeded to put nine sugars in the other cup, and placed them on the table. “Be careful, they’re hot. I can’t believe Mr. Shadwell deluded you into thinking nine sugars is an acceptable amount to put into tea, darling.”

Newt ignored her, and took a sip of the drink, promptly burning his tongue. He put the cup down hastily, thought for a second, and then replied; “Well, there are worse habits I could have picked up from him. Be grateful I don’t prick you with a needle every day.”

Anathema turned to say something witty in response, but stopped as their guest emitted a hearty chuckle. “Oh, Crowley really is quite cunning. The whole ‘needle in the witch’ trick. Very ‘on brand’, wouldn’t you say?” He looked out to nowhere in particular, probably reminiscing about the 17th century.

Newt’s brow furrowed. “Aziraphale, who taught you that?”

“Taught me what?”

“You said ‘on brand’. That doesn’t seem to fit your whole, y’know.” Newt gestured at Aziraphale vaguely, searching for the right word. “Your whole, uh, thing. Being all old-fashioned.” Anathema kicked him under the table and glared at him icily. “N-not that that’s a bad thing, or anything!” he quickly corrected himself.

“Ah yes. Adam Young has been teaching me some of the new ‘lingo’ the kids are using these days. I think I’m cottoning on quite well, actually.” Aziraphale seemed pleased with himself.

Newt’s face suddenly lit up, and he grinned. “Ana, do you think Agnes’ new prophecies would have sounded like th-“ He was met with another sharp kick underneath the table. 

“Don’t mention the prophecies,” the witch said quietly, trying her hardest to keep the angel out of earshot. Unfortunately, angels have remarkable hearing.

“New… prophecies? You don’t mean-“

Anathema sighed deeply. “Yes, Agnes left us with more prophecies. We had agreed not to mention it-“ she said mostly to Newt, “because we didn’t want to disappoint you.” 

“Disappoint me? This is exciting news! Being able to finally study Agnes Nutter’s prophecies and see them unfold right before me!” Aziraphale began to grow more and more energetic, but stopped once he saw the woman’s downtrodden expression. “What is it?”

“Well, I actually… I…” Anathema was staring at the floor, barely vocalising.

“We burnt them.” Newt interjected. “We’ve had quite enough of prophecies for one lifetime, believe it or not.” Anathema looked up guiltily.

They were both staring at the angel, trying to decipher his reaction. He was looking down at his hands, and was still for a few seconds before looking up and smiling at the two of them. “Of course! No problem whatsoever! I completely understand!” Anathema realised she had been holding her breath, and exhaled, smiling at Aziraphale. “Thank goodness. I thought you might be a bit upset with us-“

“Not at all, dear! I mean, I went quite a few centuries without the first ones, and I managed perfectly fine!” He sounded very genuine, but a brief flicker of uncertainty flickered over his face. The witch felt he was hiding his disappointment to make her feel better.

Aziraphale noticed the girl’s regretful gaze, and changed the topic. “How have you been faring?” 

Anathema looked at Newt, and back at the angel. “We’re doing very well. We’ve decided to stay here in Tadfield. After what happened, the woman I was renting from was not keen on returning, so the cottage is ours! And it is such a beautiful town.”

“Turns out the weather is still perfect too!” added Newt. “We’ve both grown quite fond of the English Countryside. No computers, for a start.”

“Ah yes, I’ve always had a soft spot for it, myself.” Aziraphale agreed. “Crowley always preferred the cities, but I do try to travel through the country every couple years or so. I suppose he enjoys the pollution and such. Definitely not the traffic, though.” Anathema wasn’t completely sure if the angel was still talking to them or just to himself.

“You do talk about that Crowley fellow a lot.” Newt said. Aziraphale seemed taken aback by this.

“I do not talk about him a lot! Well… perhaps I do, but it’s not like I’m spoiled for immortal company, now am I? Who else am I supposed to talk about?”

“Well, you’ve been alive for thousands of years, you must have some more interesting stories than that.”

“Newt,” Anathema warned.

Aziraphale scoffed. “I have plenty of stories! I just find Crowley to be… very interesting-“

A loud revving from outside cut the angel off. Aziraphale’s eyes lit up, and he stood quickly.

“Well, speak of the devil.” Newt said smugly.

“That would be my ride. Pleasure catching up with the two of you!” Making sure he had left everything where he found it, the angel carefully pushed his chair in and departed, waving cheerily. 

Newt watched the Bentley scream down the quiet Tadfield street, and then winced, rubbing his shin. “Thanks a lot, Ana.” And then to himself, “That’s going to leave a mark.”

“I’m sorry, but you really should have been more careful. You know that man - ah, angel - lives and breathes old prophecies. I didn’t want him to know what he was missing out on.” 

Newt pondered this for a second, and then frowned. “Well, technically he doesn’t really breathe. And he doesn’t really live either, when you think about it.” 

“Please shut up, darling.” Anathema said with a smile. 

She didn’t think, with all her powers and her imagination, she could have ever predicted the zany characters she hung around. These were the kind of people you only met through, well, attempts to subvert the apocalypse, she supposed. 

She wouldn’t trade it for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! this is my first fanfic i've ever written, so i hope you enjoy it!! this is just kind of a setup chapter, but the gay pining will begin next time i promise. i've written about seven chapters at this point, and i'll upload the next one soon! in the meantime, i would really love if you'd give feedback/let me know if you like it!! thank you so much for reading, it means the world!  
> 


	2. Aziraphale's Favourite Part Of The Day

Chapter 2: Aziraphale’s Favourite Part Of The Day

-

Aziraphale was thrown to the side as Crowley tore around a sharp corner in his newly refurbished Bentley. “Do be careful, Crowley. I swear, you’ll discorporate me with your horrendous driving before Archangel Gabriel gets an opportunity to.”

“You know I would never do that, angel.” The demon replied. Aziraphale’s heart jumped at the remark, but he just rolled his eyes. He wondered if Crowley knew that he came off as so endearing. He was probably just messing with him. The angel looked over at his oldest friend, completely oblivious both to road laws and to his feelings. _And that’s how it will stay for eternity,_ he thought to himself

“How are our witch-witchfinder duo holding up?” Crowley’s voice snapped Aziraphale out of his thoughts. 

“Oh, yes! Quite well. They seem very happy together. Don’t you just love watching relationships bloom?” He smiled at Crowley, who seemed, shockingly, to be incredibly focused on the road. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. ”And, today it was revealed to me that Agnes Nutter wrote prophecies beyond the apocalypse! She knew all along that it wouldn’t happen! Isn’t that remarkable?”

Crowley cursed at the traffic, and then looked over at his friend. “Those would have been nice to have before the anti-christ started screwing with everything. We wouldn’t have had to worry so much then.” The demon tapped the steering wheel impatiently, then waved his hand half-heartedly. He drove the Bentley down the empty lane that had suddenly materialised, looking at the drivers stuck in traffic with satisfaction. “So, what are these ‘new prophecies’ then? Is there going to be an apocalypse two, perhaps?”

The angel paused for a moment. “I’m afraid our young witch friend didn’t want to study another 300 years of prophecy. They all went up in flames. They’ll never know what Agnes saw. And… neither will I.” Aziraphale tried, and failed, to hide his sadness. He tried to lighten the mood with a joke. “Guess I’ll have to go back to rehearsing my magic tricks!” He laughed awkwardly.

Crowley didn’t buy it. He could tell when his best friend was distraught, and he hated it. He looked over at the angel sympathetically, narrowly missing a lamppost in the process. “Don’t look so disappointed. We’ve got the whole world at our fingertips! We don’t need some old crone telling us what to do.” Aziraphale glared at him, and he grinned. He felt messing with the angel was completely justified when he received a classic Aziraphale Glower. “Don’t look at me like that, my dear. I’m sorry, but do try to look on the bright side. That is your job, after all.”

They had just about made it to the bookshop. These rides were the best part of the angel’s day, and they always seemed to end sooner than they ought to.

“Ah, here we are. We’re still good for lunch tomorrow, then?”

Aziraphale had forgotten about that. He cheered up a bit. “Yes, I’ll see you then.”

Crowley got out, and darted around the back of the car to open the door for him. “See you tomorrow, angel.”

If ethereal beings could blush, Aziraphale was positive he would be completely red. Crowley waved his hand again and all the cars stopped to let the angel cross the road. He still looked both ways - twice - before finally crossing and giving Crowley another awkward smile and wave before disappearing into the store.

Aziraphale leaned back against the inside of the door, listening to the Bentley’s engine grow softer until he couldn’t hear it anymore. “Oh, what are you playing at, Aziraphale.” He said to himself. “You know he doesn’t feel… the same way about you. Just let it go.” He sunk into the chair at his desk. Armageddon had been averted, and he was meant to be living in peace. Yet he felt an immense weight on his shoulders that he couldn’t shake off. He knew he had to tell him, but he just didn’t know how. Surely he could give it six thousand more years, right?

His eyes skimmed across his collection of books. Hundreds of years of collecting, as long as books had existed, yet now they brought him no comfort. He got up restlessly and started pacing across the shop.“Um. Hello Crowley. It’s me, Aziraphale. No, that’s stupid. He knows who I am.” He cleared his throat. “Hi… Anthony- no, definitely not. Hey AJ,” he feigned finger guns, “not even going to continue with that one. I should just stop trying. I can give it a decade or two, no big deal.”

He sat back down at his desk, and took a deep breath. “Hi Crowley. I thought you should know that I- Well, we’ve known each other quite a while, as you know. Only since the beginning of time, ha ha. Ahem.. well, I’ve, ah, I’ve grown rather… fond of you. Well, I wouldn’t say fond… not that I don’t like you! I just… I….”

He put his face in his hands and sighed. Being immortal was such a pain sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again! i changed a couple of plot points between publishing last chapter and now so i had a bit of extra work to do, but here is chapter 2! most of the chapters won't be as long as the first one, they'll probably all be closer to this length. i really hope you're enjoying it so far!! i've pretty much finished the whole thing, just need to flesh everything out a bit. plesase let me know what you like/if you like it!! thanks again!!


	3. Crowley's Things To Do

Chapter 3: Crowley’s Things To Do

-

Crowley, leaning precariously against the door of the Bentley, watched Aziraphale take utmost care crossing the completely empty road to his bookshop. He smiled softly. For such a clever person, he really was quite daft sometimes. Crowley found it charming.

He got back into the Bentley and headed back to his apartment. Driving without Aziraphale in the passenger seat was very dull, and the road was a lot more boring to look at than him. Annoying the angel was a highlight of his day, even if he did it to avoid having to say anything meaningful. Why confront your feelings for people when you can just provoke them into being playfully angry at you? Aziraphale’s cross expression flashed through Crowley’s mind, and he smiled. He was so cute when he frowned, the demon thought fondly.

The post-armageddon world was nice, but he did miss having an excuse to call the angel on the phone. He had recently learnt about texting, and thought sending cryptic emoticons would be a much easier way of starting a conversation. Humans did come up with some coherent ideas now and again. But, even if he could convince Aziraphale to get a mobile phone, he probably wouldn’t answer anyway. He thought the angel probably has a lot to do, things that are a lot more important than talking to him.

Crowley pulled into a park and headed up to his apartment. He did not have a lot to do. The elderly woman in the apartment building greeted him, and he muttered a reply, not in the mood for socialising. He wouldn’t have minded if she hadn’t shown back up after Hastur and Ligur did away with her.

He entered his apartment, walked past the bathroom and kitchen (both pristine and unused) and stopped to lean against the doorframe of the spare room. It had been empty for most of its existence, but was currently furnished with a simple desk, some drawers and bookshelf. Although the angel wasn’t aware, Crowley had set it up for Aziraphale the night after the bookshop had burnt down, just in case he needed it (although he would never admit to being that optimistic). Perfect and untouched, just like the rest of the apartment. It frustrated him.

He decided to yell at his plants for a while.

-

It was the next morning. There was a knock at Aziraphale’s door.

Crowley’s early, he thought. He took a moment to adjust his coat and straighten his tie. He collected himself for a second, and then opened the door to find someone else entirely.

“Anathema? Why, what a surprise! Please, do come in!” He tried his best to hide the disappointment in his voice. He really did like Anathema, but she was a bit of a stranger, and who would he rather have at the door than Crowley?

“Oh no, that’s not necessary. I just wanted to give you something. I felt bad about yesterday, you seemed quite upset.”

“Did I? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

Anathema, without any further ado, pulled a yellowed scrap of paper out of her pocket. She took Aziraphale’s hand and placed the paper in it, making sure to obscure the contents.

“This is the only one that… survived the fire.”

The angel’s eyes widened, and Anathema looked up at him. “A prophecy?”

“I was going to get rid of it, but something inside told me to hold onto it. I guess I still have some of Agnes’ influence.” She flashed a pained smile. “I haven’t read it, so it’s just you and Agnes in on this one. Probably the rarest prophecy around!” She seemed eager to impress him. The angel wondered if he had really been so transparent yesterday.

“Thank you dearly, Anathema. You have no idea how much this means to me!” He looked down at the folded piece of paper in his hands, and then up at the witch, smiling. “Thank you, again. Really.”

“Of course. I’ll see you around, Mr. Aziraphale.” She turned and left promptly, her heels clicking against the pavement.

“Mr. Aziraphale?” He repeated once she was out of earshot. “How formal.” He went back into the store, and sat down at his desk. He cleared the books scattered over the surface, and placed the folded piece of paper down, hesitating.

The scrap of paper was singed around the edges and moderately crumpled. It hurt his heart to see it in such a bad condition. Despite that, he was still extremely excited to see what was written on it. He wondered if Agnes knew this was going to happen, that this would be the last survivor of her visions, which only exponentially increased the importance of this small piece of parchment. He tried to stop his hands shaking as he prepared himself.

The last unfulfilled, nice and accurate vision was right in front of him.

He carefully pried open the paper and read Agnes Nutter’s final prophecy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh cliffhanger! ok i crave validation so i'm adding another chapter today. i'm completely reworking chapter 4 at the moment, so it won't be ready for a day or so unfortunately. ao3 makes all my writing look a lot shorter than it is, i feel like i've written sooo much. anyway, hope u enjoyed this chapter! tell me what you think, what you think might happen, what parts you like! i love talking about these two idiots!!!


	4. Crowley Holds His Tongue

Chapter 4: Crowley Holds His Tongue

-

Crowley pulled up in front of Aziraphale’s bookshop, exactly at one, like they had agreed. Usually, the angel would be already waiting outside the store, endlessly punctual. Today he was nowhere to be seen.

“That’s strange.” he muttered to himself, turning off the engine and leaning out the window.

“Hello?” he called. He heard an indecipherable response from inside. He sat back, checking his phone.

Aziraphale finally rushed out the door, and stood hesitantly outside the passenger door of the Bentley. Crowley sighed, walked around the back of the car and looked expectantly at him. “What’s up, angel?”

He looked up at the demon and smiled briefly. “Ah, hello Crowley! My dear friend, Anthony Crowley.”

“Yes?”

“We have lunch scheduled for today, correct?”

“Yes?”

“Lovely. Splendid. Great.”

Aziraphale did not get into the car.

Crowley sighed. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

Crowley took his glasses off with one hand and looked into the angel’s eyes. “You’re acting very strange.”

“Strange? Me? No! I’m just… feeling slightly ill.”

“Really? An angel? Feeling ill?”

Aziraphale ignored this. “Would you mind if we walked instead?”

“You recommended a sushi restaurant twenty miles away, so no actually, we cannot _walk_.”

“There’s actually a lovely Thai place a couple of streets down. I’d just like to get some fresh air.” The angel was shifting nervously, and kept darting his eyes away each time Crowley looked at him. Aziraphale had been outlandishly excited at finally seeing Crowley try sushi for the first time, so it was unlike him to so quickly dismiss it.

Crowley reached down to open the door for him. “Come on, angel, we don’t have time t-“ He stopped abruptly as Aziraphale grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand away from the door. Time seemed to stop as he realised what he had just done. He looked up to see Crowley gazing at him, a gentleness in his eyes Aziraphale had rarely seen - probably because he was seldom without his sunglasses. His heart skipped a beat, and he let go, looking down at his hands in embarrassment.

“Ah, I just would prefer to walk. Also, traffic is quite frustrating this time of day. You know how Soho is!” He laughed his nervous laugh and something in Crowley softened. He decided not to push it anymore. 

“Very well. Lead the way.”

-

The waitress seated them at a table for two, across from each other. Crowley thought it quite romantic. Aziraphale thought the same thing. It terrified him. He decided to pay very close attention to the lace of the tablecloth, not looking up.

Needless to say, there was a bit of tension.

“So…” Crowley ventured, “any plans for the next couple of days?”

Aziraphale looked up at him as if he hadn’t noticed he was there, and then shook his head wordlessly before looking back down.

“I was thinking, since you convinced me to get sushi, I could try and tempt you to try something new as well? Even though we put the sushi on hiatus, of course.”

Talk of food seemed to catch the angel’s attention. “I’d like to hear what cuisine you’ve had that I haven’t.”

“No, not food. I thought we could do something? You know, go out?” He almost finished that sentence differently, but stopped himself.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Hmm… what do you think of skydiving?”

Aziraphale burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious! Have you even met me?”

“Ice skating then. Or bowling perhaps? That’s definitely more your thing.”

“No way! I would completely embarrass myself.” The smile began to fade from his face. “Besides, I, ah, just realised I actually am quite occupied this month.”

“Are you all right, Aziraphale?” Crowley let a sliver of concern make its way into his voice. “Did I do something t-“

“No!” The angel was quick to shut down his worries. “It’s not you! I- sorry. I’m just a bit distracted. I was reading something back at the bookshop and I suppose it’s still on my mind. I’m terribly sorry.” Aziraphale was being very convincing, but Crowley knew that his friend’s agitated state was because of him.

Their eyes finally met, or at least Aziraphale assumed they did. You never really could tell with those sunglasses.

“It’s not upsetting you is it? What can I do?“ His concern warmed Aziraphale’s heart. “I have a very limited skillset. Do you need me to set anything on fire?”

Aziraphale laughed. “Please don’t! We know what happened last time something was alight in my store.”

“That’s a very good point.” Crowley placed his elbows on the table, interlocking his fingers and resting his chin on his hands. “Is there anything else I can do? …Anything you want to tell me?”

“Of course not! Why would you think that?”

“You seem… on edge. Your eyes are darting all over the place. And I know it’s not to admire the decor, because this place is… actually rather hideous, wouldn’t you say?” Aziraphale sighed as Crowley grimaced at an abstract painting hung beside them. The angel didn't enjoy being so easy to read. He supposed that’s what happens after you know someone for a few too many millennia.

He thought _he_ might try wearing sunglasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter four done!! i was going to upload it this morning but instead spent the last three hours or so completely reworking it. next chapter u will find out what the prophecy is!! comment what you think it might be, there's definitely some foreshadowing in this chapter that alludes to its contents. thank you for reading, and for your support!!!


	5. The Bentley Is, In Fact, Not A Horse

Chapter 5: The Bentley Is, In Fact, Not A Horse

-

Today was a good day. Today Crowley had an excuse to telephone Aziraphale. 

He thought of what had happened the day before, and he almost felt his wrist tingle. He had been ever so aware of the angel’s hand on his, and he was struggling to dismiss it from his mind.

Crowley had been killing time in his apartment, waiting to call, but he didn’t want to seem too eager. He picked a tasteful morning hour - not too early, not too late, in his opinion. The phone rung twice before it was answered.

“I’m afraid we’re quite closed.”

“I should hope so, it’s four in the morning.”

“Crowley!” He could hear the smile in the angel’s voice. “What brings you here?” On the other side of the call, Aziraphale closed his eyes, immediately regretting what he said.

“What brings me here? To this conversation? Well, I have a lovely device called a cellular phone and I carry it around with me, actually. I’ve been saying you should get one.” Crowley had, understandably, disposed of his voicemail machine after the incident with Hastur.

“You know how bad I am with technology and such. It took me years to get the whole ‘analog time’ business, and before I knew it they had changed that too! I always said sundials were more efficient.”

Crowley really didn’t want to get into that conversation - again. He tries to create the most inconvenient way to tell the time and Aziraphale swears by it. “Listen, I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” the angel said quickly. He winced, and almost put the phone down right then in defeat. _Really, Aziraphale? Pull yourself together._

“Right, so, I’m heading over to the old U. S. of A. for a bit.”

Aziraphale frowned. Was this because of yesterday? “Why? It’s not like you need to perform any more of your satanic miracles.”

“Yes, but they’re really messing it up over there. I may not be employed anymore, but I wouldn’t be much of a demon if I missed this one.”

“Well, I’m not going with you. I've had quite enough of travelling for the next century at least.”

“I don’t want to you come with me.” Crowley said this rather harshly, and wished he hadn’t phrased it like that. He wouldn’t be caught discorporated apologising, though, so he continued. “I need you to take care of the Bentley for me while I’m gone. I’ll be back two Sundays from now.”

If Aziraphale had been offended by his comment, he didn’t show it. He actually sounded rather happy about his proposition. “Of course! The Bentley! Ah, how is the old girl, anyway?”

“Gorgeous, as always. Anyway, just make sure nothing happens to it. And - please don’t drive it. If you can’t navigate a mobile phone, I’d hate to see what you’d make of a car.”

“Of course, I would never dare to.” He paused for a moment. “What if I really needed to drive it, though?” 

“What do you mean, why would you need to drive it?”

“What if someone, wants to, ah, punch it?”

“Punch my Bentley? It’s not a horse.”

“Or stab it, perhaps. What if they have a knife? I might have to drive it away. How would I go about doing that?”

Crowley was grinning at the image of a person running after the Bentley brandishing a knife. He was also grinning because of how damn thoughtful the angel was being.

He would never let anyone know that.

“Goodbye, angel.” He waited a moment to see if Aziraphale would say anything more, but he didn’t. Crowley hung up.

-

He brought the Bentley over later that morning. Aziraphale winced as the wheels thunked against the curb. The demon got out, unfazed.

“Good morning, angel!” he called, making his way over. His best friend stood outside the door of the bookshop in the sunlight, looking as angelic as ever. “Here you are, then.” He pressed the keys into his hand, very aware that they were touching. Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you. Have a safe trip, Crowley. Please don’t get into too much trouble.” The angel laid a hand tenderly on his shoulder, and he thought he might really die then and there. He would give anything to know what Aziraphale was thinking at that moment.

After what felt like hours, but was only really a few seconds, the angel moved his hand away, immediately using it to straighten his bow tie. Crowley ought to have said something, but was relatively distracted. He just smiled, raised a hand to wave, and turned to leave.

Aziraphale watching him flag down a taxi - probably for the first time - and leave for America. He kept his eyes on the cab until it turned a corner, completely out of sight.

He sighed and went back inside. In the bookshop, the prophecy was still sitting on the desk, haunting him. He opened it and read it, as he had hundreds of times in the last few days.

 

_If any harme cometh to the restored machine of the Demon, an Angel’s confession shalt arise_

 

Aziraphale had known exactly what it was talking about. He had been trying to decipher some alternate meaning, but to no avail. It was quite clear cut; the ‘restored machine’ referred to Crowley’s Bentley, which had been fixed after its destruction last week. And if anything more happened to it, his feelings would be somehow revealed. Just his luck that Crowley was the worst driver in the universe.  
“…an angel’s confession. What does that word even mean, confession? Agnes, you really don’t give me much to work with.”

Aziraphale thought that was a silly phrase. He had lots of things to ‘confess’, technically. Maybe he just reveals to the world that he does rather enjoy pineapple on pizza. That thought cheered him up a bit.

“Luckily, Crowley can’t cause a ruckus for a while.” Aziraphale said to himself, peering through the blinds to check on the Bentley parked across the road. “I’m much more responsible than he is. What’s the worst that can happen?” He said this mostly to reassure himself. Of course he knew the worst that could happen; his brain had been running through hundreds of possible scenarios. Carjackers, explosives, tornadoes, acid rain, meteors, aliens. They were quite nearly endless. 

Aziraphale was very good at imagining near-impossible scenarios. While he had thought of every possible way Crowley could reject his advances, he never once let himself indulge in the thought that he might reciprocate his feelings. The demon was much too cool, and Aziraphale was just a simple soul, who read most of the time, and dined out he wasn’t doing that. Crowley’s life was a lot more exciting, he imagined, and he didn’t have time for things like relationships and… emotions. 

He had tried being bold, like he imagined Crowley would be, and gave him a parting pat on the shoulder. He thought the demon seemed quite uncomfortable, and he had regretted it immediately.

Aziraphale got up from his desk, frustrated. “Are you happy, Agnes? Is this what you saw? An ethereal being losing his mind?” He smoothed his coat, and sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to just ignore you just this once. Don’t genius 17th century prophets make mistakes too?”

Suddenly his eyes lit up. He had an idea. It was so simple, why on earth hadn’t he thought of it before! 

If he couldn’t change the meaning of the prophecy, perhaps he had to investigate the prophet!

The angel rushed outside and motioned for a taxi. “Tadfield, please!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone!! this is an absolute MONSTER of a chapter so i hope you enjoy! it was originally meant to be two chapters, with the first part ending after their phone call, but they both ended up kinda short and i was having trouble making them longer - especially since i didn't want to give too much insight into what aziraphale was thinking before you find out the prophecy. also, i rewrote the prophecy and both these chapters like eighty times, they honestly barely resemble the first draft. as always, let me know what you think!! also, i added it to the notes in the first chapter, but if you're enjoying it, i posted it on my tumblr debutaunt-ball and would love if you reblogged it there if you're enjoying it!! ok i'll stop rambling now haha thanks!! OH and thanks 2 my friend basil for coming up with the name of the chapter after i sent him a draft bgnjkbng it's hilarious
> 
> edit 1/7 i realised they actually raised warlock in england (thank god they mention that in the last chapter of the book) so i changed that line jbnbjkfgn


	6. Newt Talks About Professional Scrabble

Chapter 6: Newt Talks About Professional Scrabble

-

Aziraphale raised his hand to knock at Anathema Device’s door, but stopped as he heard shouting from inside. It seemed to be Anathema, but he could also hear Newt trying to interject to no avail.

“You disgusting man, I never want to speak to you again. I can’t believe you would do this after all we’ve been through! Don’t you ‘Ana’ me, you traitor! I swear to god, I will curse everyone you ever-“

“Excuse me? Ms. Device?”

There was silence for a moment, and then Newt opened the door to greet him. “Hello Aziraphale. Ah, sorry you had to hear that. I’m afraid we’re having a bit of a fight.”

Anathema was sitting at a table, fists curled in anger. She looked up to see the angel, and her expression softened slightly. “Aziraphale! What a surprise!”

“Yes, sorry for, ah, surprising you. Are you alright?”

Newt began to reassure him, but Anathema cut him off.

“Actually, we aren’t alright. I let Newton here swap a tile with me, very generously, might I add, and he goes and plays CAPESKIN for 82 points! That doesn’t even sound like a real word!” She starts muttering angrily under her breath - words that Aziraphale would never repeat - and started picking up tiles from the floor.

Aziraphale realised that they had been playing Scrabble, which wasn’t immediately obvious considering Anathema had flung the board from the table in a rage. Small white letter tiles littered the floor, and the board was resting against a chair leg.

“Joe Edley took his third nationals with that word in 2000!” Newt was almost vibrating with excitement. “Look at me, playing the same word as him!”

Anathema sighed, and turned to Aziraphale. “I never know what he’s talking about. I mean, who even follows professional Scrabble? Also, tile swapping isn’t even in the rules. He shouldn’t have done it!” (Correction - Anathema begged Newt to let her swap a tile with him since she had finally found a word longer than five letters. Newt would usually never break the official Scrabble rules. He decided to stay silent at this moment as he felt if he spoke up, his life would legitimately be endangered.) 

Aziraphale was very confused. He thought himself a bit of an expert on human culture, but the concept of professional Scrabble had always evaded him. He flicked his eyes over the paper where Newt had written the scores. Anathema couldn’t seem to score higher than 15. Newt saw him reading the score sheet and added, “She was the one to suggest Scrabble. This happens every time.” 

The witch had put all the tiles back in the tile bag, and packed up the board. She disappeared into the kitchen.

“Uh, anyway, what brings you here?” Newt pulled out a chair and motioned for him to sit down.

“Ah yes, I was hoping to speak with Anathema about, ah, prophecies.”

“I don’t think she really wants to talk about those, to be honest. Even when she’s in a good mood she tries to avoid it. Now? It’s probably asking for trouble.” 

Considering she hadn’t mentioned it yet, the angel decided that Anathema had probably neglected to tell her boyfriend about the most recent prophecy. He opted not to elaborate, instead simply saying “Of course. Thank you, Newton.”

Anathema came back in, slammed the Scrabble box on the table between them and started to scour a roll of tape for the end. The two of them watched as she feverishly taped the box shut, ripping off pieces with her teeth. Neither of them dared speak a word.

“Newton, darling, I promise I will never suggest this game again.” Aziraphale gave Newt a sympathetic glance, knowing exactly what it’s like to have an extremely chaotic partner. Well, partner in a both-banished-from-their-respective-sides-after-fraternising-for-six-thousand-years kind of way, not in a, well, not like Newt and Anathema. She took a stack of books from their bookshelf and concealed the box behind them, then replaced the books and finally sat down. 

The angel cleared his throat and looked over at Newt. “Oh right.” He left it at that, and retreated further into the house.

“Would you like some tea?” Anathema asked, acting as though she hadn’t just had a complete meltdown.

“No, I’m fine thank you. I just had some questions for you. About Agnes. Is that alright?”

Anathema looked down at her hands, and sighed. “To be honest, I don’t remember too much about the book, or Agnes. I’m not sure why.” 

“That’s perfectly fine, dear. I’m glad I came to pick your brain as soon as possible then. I know it might be a bit foggy, but can you recall a prophecy of hers that never came true?”

She responded without pause. “Nope. They were all right. I thought you knew that? You were the one who told me she was the only completely accurate seer in all of history, right? Is something wrong?”

Aziraphale really didn’t want Anathema to stress about her newest prophecy, considering all that had happened, so he put on a brave face. “Everything is fine! Just, you know, doing my research. There wasn’t a possibility that you might have missed one, though? Maybe thrown in it with the recycling by accident?”

“My ancestors poured over this book for hundreds of years. You really think I would be so careless?”

“Of course not, you’re brilliant. I mean, you had more of a hand in preventing the death of the planet than Crowley or I did.”

Anathema seemed pleased with his response. “You could call me a professional ancestor, hey?”

“I think she’d let you resign that post now. You can simply be a professional witch.” Aziraphale suggested.

“Ooh, I like the sound of that. “ She imagined herself sitting behind a vast mahogany desk, with the phrase engraved on a name plate, and smiled. “Anathema Device, professional witch. I am quite good at it too, wouldn’t you say? Being a witch, I mean.”

Aziraphale had slightly tuned out at this point, as he had remembered in visiting, he had left the Bentley entirely unsupervised. He smoothed out his coat and stood up. “Of course, dear. I really should be going, though. I wouldn’t want to hold you up more than I already have.”

“You’ve only just arrived! Please, let me get you some tea. We could play a game! I think we have Monopoly somewhere…”

Aziraphale had been on Earth for the entire of its existence. His life had been threatened countless times, had met literally Satan himself, and he had seen Crowley with a mullet.

Nothing sounded worse at this very moment than playing a board game with Anathema.

“No! Ah- I’m quite fine, thank you. I really should get back to the store. Lovely seeing you!” He smiled at her and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been titled as the 7th chapter for ages since i forgot i merged the last two so there are actually only ten chapters jkfdnjf anyway newt being passionate about professional scrabble is literally my favourite au ever i yelled about it for so long after i came up with it, so if you are one of the 8 people also interested in it, please talk to me about it!!! i could have gone on for so much longer but i decided not to punish anyone reading this chapter lmao. shadwell has the energy of every unhinged older scrabble player and you can't convince me otherwise  
> also sorry for putting the chapter name and number in the actual chapter as well, it just sorts it out in my head idk i like having it there. thanks for continuing to read!!! i reached 1000 hits and 100 kudos which is so wild so thank you so much every reading this right now!! yes you!!  
> also i just realised this chapter ends so awkwardly jfdknvkjndf i didn't get around to changing it so that's what you get i guess


	7. A Very Convenient Inconvenience

Chapter 7: A Very Convenient Inconvenience

-

Aziraphale was sitting on the steps of his bookshop, resting his head on his hands. He had been keeping a watchful eye on the Bentley for many hours now, and nothing had happened. Today had been an utter failure. He had thought if he couldn’t disprove the prophecy’s intentions, he could disprove the prophet, but deep down he knew it would never have worked.

Agnes Nutter was probably watching him right now, laughing. He wished he had an ounce of her wisdom. With his limited intelligence, he had decided the best way to deal with it was to just avoid the prophecy for as long as possible.

It had been about 16 hours since Crowley had left, and Aziraphale was already losing it.

He was thinking of calling it a night, and was about to get up when a shadow darted past his head, just within his peripheral vision.

Aziraphale sat upright, suddenly very aware of his surroundings. He looked around, slowly standing as he tried to identify whatever he had just seen. He looked out over the road, and could only see was a young woman walking along the footpath across the street, a few metres from Crowley’s car.

 _I’m imagining things,_ Aziraphale thought. _I really ought to go inside and get some rest._

Before he had another chance to do anything else, he heard a scream. He looked back to see that the girl had collapsed just next to the Bentley. He rushed over. 

Aziraphale scoured the car, looking for any sign that something had happened to it. Luckily, it looked fine. “Well, that’s good news!” he said to himself, and then realised he had completely forgotten about the injured human.

She was lying on the footpath, curled into a ball. The angel looked around in a panic, trying to find the perpetrator, but finding only an empty street. He looked back down and knelt next to the girl. She was quite small, and couldn’t have been older than 20. She wore a light coloured dress, although the colour was impossible to distinguish in the dim light of the street lamps, and her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her skin was unnaturally pale and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“Please, sir, I need a hospital! My arm-“She stopped abruptly as she winced in pain. He gently touched her shoulder and she moved to reveal a very broken limb.

“Oh goodness!” Aziraphale couldn’t help but recoil at the sight. “Ah, sorry, I’m quite bad with blood.” He laughed nervously, voice shaking. He tried to collect himself. “I’ll, ah, go and phone for an ambulance.”

He started for the store, and was met with a yell from the young woman. “Hey, man, you can’t just leave! I can’t wait for an ambulance, you’ll have to drive! Th-“ Her voice caught on a sob, and she stopped for a moment. Aziraphale’s heart dropped. “That’s your car, isn’t it?”

“W-Well, technically, it’s a car that is in my possession, yes. But, you see I’m actually minding it for a friend, and he really wouldn’t want me to-“

“You can’t be serious right now, dude.”

She was right. The blood had stained her dress severely and began to pool on the concrete, and he knew if he didn’t do something soon, the damage would be irreparable.

 _Someone needing urgent transportation right next to the car that I don’t know how to drive, and can’t crash in any circumstance. How convenient,_ Aziraphale thought bitterly. 

“I suppose… I don’t really have a choice, do I? Okay then.”

Aziraphale extended his arm towards the car door handle. 

Anyone observing this situation would imagine he would then open the door and attempt to drive, and would be eagerly awaiting the angel’s endearing incompetence in action. But none of that happened.

Instead, he stopped, and splayed his fingers. There was a crunch as the woman’s bones miraculously formed back into place. 

More than anything, he wished Crowley were here with him. No doubt his friend would wisecrack about how overly empathetic he is, and then come up with a better solution. He was clever like that.

If Crowley were here, he would also be corrected by Aziraphale about the fact that angels can and do feel ill, especially when tampering with the human skeletal system.

“I really didn’t want to have to do that.” He snapped his fingers, and said to her, “In a few minutes, you’ll forget this ever happened, and there’ll be a taxi here to take you home. Sound good?” He didn’t wait for a reply, not that she would have replied anyway, and went inside to call for a taxi cab.

\- 

The next morning, Aziraphale got up and peered through the blinds to check on the Bentley. Everything was as it should be. He walked over to his desk and took the phone from the receiver, paused, and then rung Crowley before he could talk himself out of it. It was answered within a second. 

“Angel! How are you?” 

“Fine. How’s America? I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Aziraphale had not interrupted him. Crowley, in fact, had been staring at his phone, finger hovering over the call button for several minutes, trying to think up a reason to talk with him. “Ah, I was doing something, but it wasn’t terribly important. Why’d you call?”

“No reason, just wanted to see how you were going.” Crowley made a mental note of that. Wanting to know how they’re going - how had he not thought of that before? Now he could call Aziraphale any time he wanted! He felt very lucky his best friend was so intelligent.

“Yes, I’m going quite well.”

“That’s very good to hear!” He had expected Crowley to bring up the Bentley, but it must have slipped his mind. “Anything of note?”

“No, no, nothing that would interest you.”

“Ah, very well.”

Silence.

Aziraphale _wanted_ to say “Really Crowley? You don’t have anything to tell about the continent you just flew to? Not a single happenstance?” Aziraphale also wanted to say “I’ve been hopelessly in love with you for quite some time now and you have no idea.”

Instead, he said “Well, it was nice speaking to you Crowley. Do be careful out there.” and hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was meant to be two chapters, but i really didn't know how to make it longer. it was meant to be a cliffhanger after u think he's gonna drive the bentley but the chapters were like ~650 words each so i thought it was a bit too short.  
> but in other news!! the whole fic is done!! it will be all uploaded by the end of the day tomorrow!! i took ages because i was crying over michael sheen in the great british bakeoff and then i listened to alice by heart like three times but hey i got there  
> the tone of my fic vs my notes are probably giving everyone whiplash i'm so sorry


	8. Aziraphale Takes A Day For Himself

Chapter 8: Aziraphale Takes A Day For Himself

-

Although Aziraphale was glad to get Crowley away from the Bentley initially, the prospect of car-sitting for another week and a half seemed dreadfully dull. He decided to distract himself with some light reading.

“Ah I haven’t read this one in a while,” he said, pulling Victor Hugo’s _Les Misérables_ off the shelf. “Lovely man, Victor. He did have some, ah, interesting views, but it was the 19th century after all.” Aziraphale thought back on the last couple days, and noticed how often he had spoken aloud to himself. He decided to stop, for his own sake.

He perused the shelves, picking out a few more books he hadn’t looked at for a while. He holed up in his back room, with enough material for weeks of reading. He hadn’t gotten a lot of time to himself for eleven-odd years, and he actually found it quite refreshing. Day became night, and he was still engrossed in his books. Before he knew it, sunlight was again filtering through the blinds. He looked up, and began to panic immediately. He had forgotten about the Bentley.

 _Calm down, Aziraphale,_ he thought to himself. _You’re entirely overreacting. It’s only been one day. You’ll go outside, the car will be in perfect condition, and you’ll have worked yourself up over nothing._

It was a brilliantly sunny day in London. It was the kind of day where the birds sung their songs a little louder, couples strolled through parks, hand in hand, and parents took their young children out for ice cream. And that day, Aziraphale came out from his bookstore, immediately feeling more optimistic as he was warmed by the suns rays. He held his hand to his forehead, shading his eyes, and saw a black car parked in the spot directly across the road. _See, nothing to worry about,_ he thought with relief. His eyes adjusted to the light, and it occurred to him that the Bentley looked a little different than he remembered.

That was because it wasn’t a Bentley at all, but rather a Nissan. On closer inspection, it also wasn’t quite black, but more of an olive green.

Aziraphale blinked in disbelief, then closed his eyes for a moment. His best friend had given him a very simple task, of taking care of his most prized possession. A witch who was burned at the stake over 300 years ago had prophecised that if he didn’t care good enough care of it, he would have to tell his best friend he was madly in love with him. He would then have to tolerate being awkward acquaintances with the only other immortal being on Earth. And the only place he had looked for the Bentley was where it was the last time he saw it.

“This is fine.” said Aziraphale.

-

He had been pacing around the bookstore for hours in a panic. The poor angel was completely clueless as to what he should do next. He could hardly concentrate, his mind a mess of anxiety and regret. He doubted Crowley would ever let himself get this worked up about something. He always managed to be so calm and collected, no matter what. Aziraphale envied him for it.

 _Crowley would have this all under control if he were here._ Suddenly, his eyes lit up. _Right, that’s it! I just have to think like a demon. What would Crowley do?_

He went outside and hailed a taxi. “I’ll like to go to the nearest alcoholic merchant, please.”

The driver frowned. “You wanna go to a bar?”

“Yes, that is what I said. Thank you!”

The taxi started moving, and Aziraphale watched the London scenery go by his window; a park, a bent signpost, a shopfront for lease, a phone box, a car dealership, a tasteful 1920s Bentley, a dense gathering of trees…

“Wait, pull over! I need to get out here!” The taxi jolted to a stop. Aziraphale produced a collection of coins from his pocket - at least twice what the fare was - and handed them to the driver. “Keep the change.” he said, ignoring the driver’s exhilarated thanks as he hurried back to the car dealership they had passed. Displayed out the front, without doubt, was the missing car. Thinking like Crowley had helped him a lot more than he had anticipated.

A tall woman in a navy suit and pointed heels greeted him as he came in. “What can I help you with, sir?”

“I’d like to look at that Bentley out the front, please.” Aziraphale expected to have a nice chat with the manager of the store, sort out the misunderstanding, and have the whole situation under control well before Crowley returned. But first, he needed to make sure this was the right car. He didn’t expect there to be many other cars from the 20’s in perfect condition, but it never hurt to check. 

The saleswoman unlocked the doors and he slid into the passenger seat, opening the glove box. He was hoping Crowley had left something vaguely indicative of himself. Inside were at least ten identical pairs of sunglasses. Not exactly what Aziraphale was expecting, but he supposed it confirmed that it was Crowley’s. He got out, preparing to explain the situation to the staff.

“What did you think? It is a rather beautiful car.” said the saleswoman as Aziraphale approached her.

“Ah yes, about that. That car actually belongs to a friend of mine, and I’ve been minding it for him. So if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to have it back now.”

She frowned and pursed her lips. “A lovely man sold it to us this morning. It wasn’t registered, so we purchased it. We paid thousands of pounds for it, we’re not just going to give it away to the first person who feels entitled to it.” Aziraphale groaned. Of course it wasn’t registered. The concept of registering a car was completely foreign to Crowley, and he would never tolerate anyone else having any claim over it.

“But surely you noticed that he must have broken in? How do you expect to sell a car without a set of keys?”

She produced a ring of keys from her pocket, which were undoubtedly for the Bentley. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, sir, but if you aren’t intending to purchase it, I’d like you to leave the premises.”

Aziraphale had no idea how the thief had gotten a set of keys for the Bentley, but he knew he had to come up with something quickly. “How much are you selling it for?” 

“Well, we only got it in this morning, so we haven’t really priced it yet.” She stopped for a moment, thinking. “I suppose I could sell it to you for, say, thirty thousand pounds? I’m sure you’ll find that very generous.”

“Generous? I’m not paying thirty thousand pounds for something that belongs to me! That’s an authentic 1926 Bentley in perfect condition, and I’m not going to give up that easily!”

The woman’s eyes widened. “You mean, this isn’t a replica? This is actually from 1926?”

“Of course it is, and it’s had one owner since it’s creation, and its not going to have another-” Aziraphale stopped talking as he realised what he had just done.

The saleswoman was trying her hardest to stay professional, but couldn't hide her excitement. “A genuine 20’s Bentley, you say? In that case, the price would probably be closer to three hundred thousand pounds. Oh, I’m going to get a huge commission from this one!” she said to herself.

“Three hundred thousands pounds. Lovely.” Aziraphale had a modest amount saved for emergencies, and he thought this qualified. But still, he was a fair way from affording it. “Could you possibly refrain from selling to anyone else? I _am_ looking to buy, I’ve decided.” 

“Of course, Mister…?”

“Fell.” 

“Yes, very good Mr. Fell. I’ll take a 25% deposit now, and expect the rest of the money by the end the week. Does that sound suitable?”

He really wished he hadn't tipped the taxi driver so much.

Aziraphale pondered for a moment on how he could make enough money to buy back Crowley’s car and continue to conceal his secret. Most of the money he already had had been from the few sales he had made over the years in his bookstore. 

Suddenly, he knew exactly what he had to do.

“Yes, that’s acceptable. I’ll go and fetch your deposit for you, and I’ll be back Sunday afternoon with the rest.” The angel left for the shop. He had a sale to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was dreading writing this chapter but somehow it turned out to be like the longest chapter?? aziraphale saying 'this is fine' is absolutely the energy of that picture from the comic strip of that dog in the burning house (also crowley in the bentley while its on fire is absolutely that energy i think someone made that on tumblr?? anyway it's hilarious)  
> also i don't know anythign about cars and it's painfully obvious, please suspend your disbelief for now gfbnfgnjknbf  
> also sorry i meant to publish this yesterday but i ended up staying out rly late, i don't really know if i should upload once a day for the suspense or just upload the rest so people who don't save it don't read an unfinished fic?? anyway i hope u enjoy and the whole thing will be up very soon either way!! please tell me what you think and how you like it!! your comments have been so so lovely every single one of you is amazing!!


	9. The Book Sale

Chapter 9: The Book Sale

-

A few days later, on a warm London morning, an angel was standing outside a bookstore and admiring his work. A wide, flimsy banner was displayed proudly above the entrance. 

_SALE! Books of all kinds, rarities and relics galore!_

For the readers who haven’t concealed their love for their best friend whom they had known for several millennia, you might want to ask Aziraphale what on earth he thought he was doing. For those of you who have experienced this, you would know that in this particular situation your reasoning becomes a bit stilted. Aziraphale had convinced himself that confessing his feelings for Crowley would result in the termination of any relationship they had, platonic or otherwise, and valued that over all else. To him, at this moment, it seemed the logical solution.

The sale was to begin in and hour and a half, and Aziraphale had put utmost care into making his store look presentable. Adam and the rest of the Them had helped with advertising online, and the event had garnered interest from prolific book collectors across the word. Expecting to be quite busy, Aziraphale brought Them on board to help with answering phones and serving customers. In return, he promised to keep the back room well stocked with sweets.

He came out into the store to see Them hard at work. Wensleydale was carefully adjusting the books to be in perfectly straight lines, Adam was dusting the shelves, and Brian was cleaning up a mess that he was probably the cause of.

“If you can’t refer to someone you’ve just now met with gender neutral language, I don’t want to speak to you. Good day!” Pepper slammed the phone down. “Excuse me young lady.” She said in a mocking voice. “How entirely unprofessional.”

Aziraphale made a mental note to assign Brian the phone while they were open.

The Them helped him with the final touches, and before they knew it, dozens of customers were arriving. The angel was very pleased, and expected he would reach his goal in no time.

He spent the next couple of hours aiding customers in purchasing his lifelong collection of books, and giving a piece of himself away everytime. Aziraphale knew that this is what he had to do, although he definitely wasn’t enjoying it.

“I’d like to know about the authenticity of this, my good sir.” A stout man with a rather hideous goatee waved a piece of paper in a plastic sleeve in front of Aziraphale’s face. 

He frowned. “Where did you find that?”

The man gestured towards Aziraphale’s desk. “It was over in that stack of papers.”

The angel snatched it from the man’s hands. “Those are not for perusal! This isn’t a library. And, for your information, this is perfectly authentic. I should know, he gave it to me himself.” He looked over it, a page from Shakespeare’s original script of Othello. “See, these are William Shakespeare’s own annotations during production. Ah, that one was my idea!” 

He got lost in thought, until the man spoke again, puzzled. “You’re saying the bard gave it to you himself?”

Aziraphale rushed to correct himself. “Ah, figure of speech! It’s a family heirloom, you see.” He forced a laugh. “I’m afraid it’s not for sale. Feel free to look at any of the books on the shelves, I do have a first edition of-“

“How much do you want for it?” the man said, his gravelly voice lowering as if he were suggesting some illicit deal.

Aziraphale scoffed. “You can’t just put a price tag on it! It has sentimental value that outweighs any dollar amount-“

The next thing the man said proved to him that there was, in fact, a dollar amount that would get him to change his mind. He watched the man leave, filled with a deep sadness. “Sorry about that, Billy.” But, Shakespeare was gone, and Crowley was going to be around for a while longer, so it had to be done.

He heard the door swing open violently and a tall figure rushed in. “Stop! Everyone, get out!” The unknown person started shooing his customers away from the shelves, and plucking books out of their hands. “Don’t touch that, it’s not yours, you snivelling little creature. Out!”

The man looked around the shop in a daze before finally resting his eyes on the angel. “Aziraphale! What the hell are you doing?”

“Crowley?”

“No, it’s the bloody Queen of England. Why are you selling all your books? What’s gotten into you?”

He decided to make a weak attempt at a joke. “Stocktake?” Crowley took off his sunglasses and looked at him expectantly.

Aziraphale didn’t want to actually answer that question honestly, so he retreated. “I don’t really know what’s happening. It’s been quite a week. Would you mind explaining what you’re doing on this continent?”

Crowley hesitated. “Well, I, uh, heard about the Bentley getting stolen, and I wanted to see your rescue attempt.”

“Rescue attempt? It’s in a car dealership. For your information, I was trying to get enough money to buy it back without you knowing, but I suppose that’s rather useless now.” He looked at the shelves of his bookshop, emptier than they had been that morning, with sad eyes. There were no longer any customers in the store. The Them were standing in the corner, observing the fallout.

“Blasted humans, can’t follow a simple plan, all they care about is money. Never hiring that bastard again, that’s for sure.”

At that moment, the angel looked out the window and saw the Bentley parked it that same spot, across the road. Aziraphale frowned, and slowly realised what Crowley was insinuating. “You mean this is all your satanic doing?”

“Well, ah, kind of. I thought it would be amusing to mess with you for a bit, so I magic-ed up a replica of the Bentley and paid some human to take it while I binged The Good Place and got drunk for a few days. I was expecting you to go look for it, and attempt to execute an equally hilarious and destructive attempt to steal it back. I didn’t expect him to sell it some junkyard and take the money.” Crowley clicked his tongue. “Now that I say it out loud, I really should have seen that one coming…”

“You wanted someone to break in and steal the car, and you gave them a copy of the key? And I suppose you were behind the other incident as well too.” Aziraphale gasped as he remembered. “Did you break that woman’s arm?!”

“Well yes, but too be fair… the look on your face was priceless.” A smile made its way to Crowley’s face, vanishing quickly after receiving a deadly glare from the angel. “I really thought you were going to attempt to drive it for a second there. Really had me on the edge of my seat, dear.”

“You- I can’t believe you! You have no idea how imperative it is that your Bentley-“

“Yes, yes, I know, the prophecy.”

“You read it?!”

Crowley looked at the floor nervously. “I couldn’t really avoid reading it… considering I also _wrote it._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGERRRRR - well, kind of  
> ok i'm going to put the rest up today! with all the other chapters, and mostly the earlier ones, i read over them like 70 times fixing them but these are a little less polished, i know if i don't publish them i'll be changing small things for like a week haha  
> i hope this makes some sense!! next chapter will be up soon!! i'll probably have to edit it a lot more so not sure how long that's gonna take lmao


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Them Take Matters Into Their Own Hands 

-

Aziraphale was staring at Crowley, stuttering in disbelief. “You couldn’t have written it- Anathema gave it to me herself!”

“That was actually me. I thought pretending to be the witch girl would really be the cherry on top of this whole performance. Oh, and isn’t that prophecy realistic? I singed the edges myself, actually. Quite proud of that. I did tell you I have a limited skillset.”

Aziraphale had been a little confused as to why Anathema hadn’t asked him about the prophecy when he visited. Now he knew why. Everything began to click into place in his mind.

There was just one thing he didn’t understand.

“So what was that whole ‘confession’ thing about? Do… do you know?” 

“Well, I assumed you must have some juicy secret from the last six thousand years you haven't told me.” He then processed Aziraphale’s last sentence. “What do you mean, do I know?”

The angel sighed with relief. “Oh, thank goodness. It’s nothing, really.”

“You can’t just say that and then not tell me! That shouldn’t be allowed. Like, legally.”

“I don’t owe you anything after what you’ve executed these past couple of days. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“I was having a grand time until you decided to throw away your life’s work.” He looked genuinely distressed at causing the depletion of Aziraphale’s books. "That must be some secret.” Crowley looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“Are you having trouble seeing through those creepy snake eyes of yours?” Pepper said suddenly. Aziraphale and Crowley turned to face her, puzzled. “He’s obviously head over heels for you. Absolutely infatuated. Positively-“

“That’s quite enough, Pepper.” Adam interrupted. “But, she is right.”

Wensleydale nodded. “He can hardly go two sentences without mentioning you, you know.”

Crowley laughed and turned back to Aziraphale, but his face dropped when he saw the angel’s solemn expression. The Them took this as their cue to slink back into the back room and give the two of them privacy, although they were fully intending to listen through the door. 

“What, are these tiny humans telling the truth?”

The angel was silent, which told Crowley exactly what he needed to know.

“Wow. I mean, _wow._ No way. This is pretty weird, if you ask me.”

“And why would that be?” Aziraphale snapped. “I get it, everyone look at the funny angel who fell in love with his enemy! If you’re done gloating, you can get to the leaving part now.” He wasn’t exactly upset - his tone could be more accurately described as resigned. He had known this moment would come for many years. He had played it through his mind countless times, but there was one thing that he hadn’t expected.

Aziraphale was terrified.

He watched Crowley with bated breath, waiting for him to respond.

“Why would I do that?” said Crowley. His next sentence was spoken as if it took every ounce of his energy to get it out. “It just so happens that I’m in a… similar situation myself.”

Saying that Aziraphale was shocked by this would be an understatement. “Who?” he said under his breath, not even certain he had heard the demon correctly. He thought for a few moments, and then spoke, coming to the only conclusion he could surmise. “Archangel Gabriel? Oh, you’re bad, Crowley.”

The demon couldn’t help it. He burst into laughter. Aziraphale watched with a mixture of confusion and worry. 

“What? No! I’m talking about you, you dim-witted fool!”

Realisation spread across Aziraphale’s face, but he didn’t let himself believe what Crowley had just said. “Surely this is another joke,” he said, partly to himself.

“Angel, I literally asked if you wanted to run away together. I’m surprised _you_ hadn’t figured _me_ out by now.”

“We were also stopping the anti-christ from ending the world! I thought you were being dramatic!” Aziraphale smiled in relief, and a tension in his body that he didn’t even know had been there suddenly lifted. “Well, this is not how I thought this would play out at _all._ ”

The joy disappeared from Crowley’s face abruptly. “I’m just disappointed I didn’t make it in time to stop you from losing all your books.”

“It’s fine!” Aziraphale reassured him quickly. “I didn’t get rid of anything too valuable. I should be able to get them back in no time. But-“ his face fell, “I did let go of one particularly special page from Othello. I’ll miss that.”

Crowley’s face lit up, and he leaped back to scour the shelves. “Oh, I grabbed that on my way in! I put it down somewhere, ah. Here it is! Nabbed it from a man with a _dreadful_ goatee.”

Aziraphale grinned. “Dreadful? It quite reminded me of the goatee you had for a while, Crowley.”

The two of them laughed, gazing into each other’s eyes with relief and joy, both still in disbelief of the other’s feelings. 

Crowley was looking at Aziraphale, regarding the softness and strength in his face. He admired him so much, and envied the kindness and empathy he never failed to exude. He didn’t know how the angel had ever had any room in his heart for a demon, but it was the best thing that could ever happen to him.

Aziraphale was looking at Crowley, hardly believing someone like himself was worthy of the love of someone so charming and intelligent. He thought about Crowley asking for the holy water, them raising the wrong boy together, their rides in the Bentley, swapping bodies to avoid being destroyed, processing the fact that his friend had felt exactly the same way the entire time.

They were both experiencing what was possibly the loveliest feeling in the world - looking into the eyes someone you love and finally knowing that they gazed upon you with equal adoration.

Finally, Crowley broke the silence. “Sushi?”

Aziraphale laughed and held out his hand, and Crowley took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter went through HEAVY editing for a very long time and i'm really happy with it!!!! tell me what you think, talk about the characters, or the plot, or just comment a keysmash i really don't mind. if you've enjoyed i'm so glad, and i've love to know about it!!!!! thank you everyone for supporting this so much it's been very overwhelmingly lovely!!!


	11. Epilogue

Chapter 11: Epilogue

-

It had been about a year since the world had ended, so most people had forgotten at this point. It had actually been exactly one year, and only about eight people remembered at least some of the details of the narrowly-avoided armageddon. These eight people were currently sitting in a park in Tadfield, and consisted of four children (one former anti-christ), two adults, an occult being and an ethereal being.

“Pass the lemonade, won’t you Sapphira darling?” said Anathema, resting her hand on her girlfriend’s knee. “Thank you.” She was wearing something outside of her usual wardrobe, a light yellow sundress and a green cardigan. Sapphira, on the other hand, had thought grey sweatpants and a white singlet would be appropriate. Crowley thought it summed up their dynamic quite accurately.

“You are looking radiant these days, Sapphira.” he said. “You’re doing so much better than when we met.”

“Well, transitioning is a lot easier when you’re friends with an angel. No surgery costs, for a start.”

Aziraphale had been rightly angered when Sapphira had mentioned how much surgery would cost during her transition, until he realised that he could just do it all himself. “That’s definitely not one of my frivolous miracles.” He said, smiling at Crowley. 

“I should know, too. You do an awful lot of them.”

“I do not! I just… get carried away sometimes.”

Crowley scoffed. “On our first date you miracle-d me a bouquet of flowers because the florist wasn’t open.”

“That was very important! I had to make a good first impression!” 

“You had already made plenty of impressions on me, love.”

While they were busy acting like an elderly married couple, Pepper was speaking with -or rather at - Sapphira enthusiastically. “The pressure on trans women to conform to gender norms in today’s society is so disappointing. All gender diverse people should be able to express themselves however they want, surgery or not. My mother taught me that.” She paused for a moment, and then added, “But you do look very beautiful.”

She laughed. “Thank you, Pepper. Did your mother also tell you you’re a very bright young woman?”

“Well, both my mothers say that,” she announced proudly.

“I wish I had two mums.” Brian’s face was smeared with strawberry jam. “Then I could take two lunches to school!”

“Your mum makes your lunch? You are such a typical male, expecting the women in your life to…”

Aziraphale was watching the children start yet another pointless argument, full of adoration and amusement, and Crowley was looking at him. The angel had a softness in his eyes that made his heart ache. He didn’t think he could love someone more than he did Aziraphale right at that moment.

“You know what I just realised, angel?”

“What?”

“We finally got around to having that picnic.”

Aziraphale frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Remember? 1967? You said perhaps we would have a picnic. It only took us, what, 50 years?”

“Ah, yes.” The angel recalled. “What a day that was. Feels like millennia ago, doesn’t it, dear?”

“I remember it like yesterday.” Crowley smiled, and took his lover’s hand. 

Aziraphale was good at imagining near-impossible scenarios, and today was no exception. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that his happiness could last outside of this perfect moment - it seemed he possessed all the love capable of existing in the world at one time. Yet, he would be proven wrong time and time again, until eternity met it’s end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's it!! i'm done!!! i have a couple things to say about this chapter:
> 
> 1\. i know i completely ignored madame tracy and shadwell i couldn't be bothered including them  
> 2\. trans rights
> 
> ok that's it. comment and leave kudos if you enjoyed!!! i'm grateful for every single person who even clicked on this, but i would love it so much if you let me know you liked it!! if you want to yell at length about it, or just good omens in general, i'd love to talk to y'all! my tungler is debutaunt-ball or my twitter is @tracemymusings :)))) thanks again for being amazing!!! perhaps i'll be back with another fic one day?


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